The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)Burney, Fanny
History
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)
Burney, Fanny
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Refugees -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Refugees -- Fiction; War stories
'You are right, my wise charmer! but we never arrive at judgment, the
only counterpoise to our fancies, till we cease to want it! When we are
young, in the midst of the world, and in pursuit of beauty, riches,
honours, power, fame or knowledge, then, when judgment would either
guide us to success, or demolish our senseless expectations, it keeps
aloof from us like a stern stranger: and will only hail us as an
intimate, when we have no longer any occasion for its services! Of what
value is judgment to a goaty old codger, who sits just as snugly over
his fire-side, whether his opinions are erroneous or oracular? who wraps
himself just as warmly in flannel, whether the world go ill or go well?
and who, if, by ignorance or mismanagement, he be cheated, loses
only what he cannot enjoy! I first became aware of my folly, by the
folly of my nephew. When he was sent forth into the world, my
decided--alas!--heir, I told him my case; and urged him to a rational
but quick choice, to obviate a similar punishment to fantastical
difficulties. He listened, according to the usage of youth, to half what
I said; and, adopting only my mistrust, was inattentive to its result;
and thus so caricatured my researches, suspicious, and irresolutions,
that he has rendered them and myself, even in my own eyes, completely
ridiculous. 'Tis a most piteous circumstance that a man can be young
only once in his life! Could I but, with my present experience, lop off
thirty or forty years of my age,--ah! fair seducer!--how would the
desire of giving you pleasure, the fear of causing you pain, the wish to
see your face always beaming with smiles--'
Juliet arose to interrupt him; but whither could she go? She again sat
down.
The Baronet also arose; and stood for some minutes, covering his eyes
with one hand, in deep rumination. Re-seating himself, then, with an air
of the most lively satisfaction, 'I have told you,' he cried, 'now, my
history. You see in me a whimsical, but contrite old bachelor; whose
entailed estate has lost to him his youth, by ungenerous mistrust: but
who would gladly devote the large possessions which have fallen to him
collaterally, to making the rest of his existence companionable. Shrink
not, sweet flower! I mean nothing that can offend you. Tell me but who
you are, and, be you whom you may, if you will accept an old protector;
if you will deign to become his friend; to give him your conversation,
your society, your lovely presence; he will despise the mocking
world--and decorate himself for your bridegroom, by a marriage
settlement of the whole of his unintailed estate.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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